


Options

by LadyDorian



Category: 60 Parsecs!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Cunnilingus, F/M, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Light BDSM, M/M, No Astrocitizens Left Unfucked, Older Woman/Younger Man, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Humor, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26026681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDorian/pseuds/LadyDorian
Summary: With the entire crew out to bone him, Emmet must consider his options carefully. Or, he could sit back and let his fantasies do all the work.
Relationships: Emmet Ellis/April Angelle, Emmet Ellis/Baby Bronco, Emmet Ellis/Deedee Dawkins, Emmet Ellis/Maegan Mann, Emmet Ellis/Tom Thomson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Options

**Author's Note:**

> Long story short, I had a dream in which Emmet fucks everyone in the crew. I have never written straight porn before, so please be nice to me.

_Captain, I've noticed the crew have been looking at you strangely these past few days. I assumed it was mutiny at first, given the way your species gravitates toward violence. Remember the nukes? I thought you might._

Emmet rolls his eyes halfway through the paragraph.

_But I'm afraid it is much more serious than that. The crew seems to be attracted to you. Sexually. All five of them. I can practically smell the pheromones through my screen. You will need to make a choice, Captain. And soon. Before they find a way to build another bomb—_

He shuts off the computer before A.S.T.R.O. can give him further reason to blush. 

_Great._ As if the takeoff hadn't been rocky enough, the soup scarce, the cabin overcrowded, and the ship held together with duct tape and prayers. Now he has to deal with his crew trying to _fuck_ him? After barely ten days?

"Shit." Emmet shakes his head.

"Cap? You OK over there?" Comes Deedee's voice.

"Yeah. I'm fine, just—" Rubbing the heat from his cheeks, he turns to a crowd of faces staring back at him—Deedee, Baby, April, Tom and Maegan—their eyes soft and curious, and nowhere near as lustful as A.S.T.R.O. had made them out to be. Could AI make mistakes? Well, he _had_ beaten it in a chess match once, so...sure, anything's possible. "It's just a minor shielding issue," he lies. "We can use the bottle of sunscreen in the medkit to offset the radiation."

"Need help putting it on?" April asks, tongue darting out to give her lips a very unsubtle lick. "I can slather up a gator in less than a minute."

_"Pfft,_ gators?" Tom waves his hand dismissively. "When I worked as a tour guide for an African safari adventure, we wouldn't touch anything smaller than an elephant."

"I'm gonna give you a black eye the size of an elephant," she shoots back. "The eye you still have left."

"Me an' Ted can help," Baby grins and holds up his cherished teddy bear. "We been practicin' make-believe."

"Please, I've managed five squirming toddlers in my life," chimes Maegan. "I think I can handle a grown man."

April growls, "I doubt your short-ass can reach, Grandma."

"Oh, you'd be surprised by the things I can reach."

Maybe if Emmet moves quietly enough, he can throw himself out of the airlock before anyone notices he's missing. Anything's possible.

"Seriously, let me do it, Cap," presses April. "I'm good at handling tools."

Anything. Is. Possible.

"Let's—Let's table this conversation for now," Emmet says, beads of sweat slowly trickling from the nape of his neck into his—uncomfortably tight—spacesuit. "We've got some time to figure it out."

Deedee shrugs. "Sure, Cap."

Tom salutes. "Roger that!"

Baby grins. "Okie dokie!"

Maegan sets her hands on her hips. "Agreed."

April turns her head and grumbles. "Whatever."

The cabin falls deathly silent again, their bickering giving way to more stares and smiles, and whatever Tom is trying to do with his one good eye—wink at him? bat his lashes? Emmet doesn't think he wants the answer.

Sighing, he settles into his captain's chair and gazes up at the ceiling, where a slew of distractions await.

_Need to fix those hanging wires._ _Reroute excess power to the engines. Upgrade the crafting module to make more of Deedee's favorite coffee._

_Zip your suit open and order them to take turns sucking your dick._

The thought hits like a sack of bricks, and Emmet snaps his head forward, only to see the crew ogling him as before—Deedee with her cheerfulness and lipstick-stained coffee mug; Tom with his medals and tall tales; assertive April and sweet, innocent Baby; Maegan and her decades of experience—all of them waiting for the opportunity to blow his brains like a supernova.

Already, he feels his cock start to yield under pressure. "Um...everyone take it easy for a while?"

"How about you, Cap? Wanna mingle with the rest of us?" Deedee asks, raising her cup to toast his rapidly fading willpower.

"You all get started. I just need to rest for a minute."

"OK. We'll be over by the window when you're ready."

"Hey, we can look for new stars together!" April adds excitedly.

Baby points Ted's arm at the darkness outside. "Check it out, Cap! We already found one of 'em!"

"That's...great, Baby." Whatever it takes to keep their eyes off his crotch. "Pick out a few more for me."

Though he can't help but notice, as he squeezes his thighs together, his own mind drifting towards more enticing sights. Lined up at the window one word away from fulfilling his filthiest desires.

*****

Everything around him is pitch black.

There's a pressure on his eyelids, ragged cloth tied in a tight knot at the back of his head. He's not gagged—that's a plus—though his hands are bound behind him, and the cool air and icy floor under his feet indicates that at least part of him is nude. The press of the mattress against his balls confirms the rest. 

Under any other circumstances, Emmet might be concerned. He might try to fight, to free himself, to sprint from the room as fast as he can. But he knows well enough what's happening here. And it makes his cock throb in anticipation.

Drawing in a breath, he spreads his legs wide and offers his body up to the mercy of his captor, her voice sultry, and her bite as powerful as the jaws of a gator. 

_"Combien précieux,"_ she purrs in a thick Creole drawl. "You look delicious, Captain." Fingers grip his chin and tilt it upwards, April chuckling softly as she admires her work. "It's a shame I ran out of scraps. I'd've loved to tie up that fat cock of yours. Give it a little bow. Right _here."_

Emmet gasps when her other hand slips between his thighs to fondle his sack, years of tinkering with machinery giving it a worn, leathery feel. Perfect for making him twitch and shiver. April laughs.

"I'll find some rope next time. Bind your wrists nice and tight so you'll be afraid to take off your gloves in front of the rest of the crew. Wouldn't want them to know how rough you like it." 

She gives his balls another squeeze before tickling her fingers along the underside of his shaft, over bulging veins and delicate foreskin, to where his head oozes out globs of precome. "Fuck, you're wet," she says, swirling the mess around. "Wanna see how wet I am?"

He gasps a wordless answer.

The mattress dips beside him as April plants her foot on the edge of the cot. She's as naked as he is; he can smell her arousal wafting like perfume into his nostrils. It makes his mouth water. 

"You want this, Cap?" She asks.

Emmet swallows and gives a nod.

"Then beg for it."

He shouldn't have to. They both want this, they've needed it for as long as he can remember. Besides, he's the captain of this ship. Shouldn't he be the one giving orders?

Defiant, he tries to lunge closer, but April digs her fist in his hair and pulls him back.

"Say it."

_"Please,"_ Emmet shamefully begs, voice hoarse with longing. "Please let me eat your pussy."

He can almost see her smirking through the cloth. _"Good."_ And she yanks him forward, Emmet tipping his head at just the right angle to plunge his tongue between her sopping-wet pussy lips. 

_"Fuck,"_ she growls as he laps her up and down. "That feels amazing. Don't you dare stop."

Stopping couldn't be further from Emmet's mind. Not when he's got her cunt in his mouth, and her clit rubbing up against his nose, everything hot and delicious and _dripping_ for him. He hums against her skin, thrusts in as deep as he can go, thirsty for the sweetest parts of her, the ones that make his fingers curl behind him in envy. He hears April groan again, feels her grip tremble and loosen, and snatches the opportunity to lick his way through her folds and up to her swollen clit, pursing his lips around it and flicking the tip of his tongue back and forth. 

When she finally tugs him away—far too soon for his liking—his chin is drenched in her juices, sweet musk embedded in every pore and taste bud. But still, Emmet finds himself parched beyond belief.

"A—"

He doesn't have time to gasp another plea before April shoves him to the bed and straddles him, reaching back to line his cock up perfectly. He feels her soft pussy graze his tip, warm and inviting, and then she's sinking down, and all Emmet can do is moan as he's devoured one pulsating inch at a time.

His arms ache beneath him, his shoulders feel as if they might pop, but April's cunt is so good, so slick and tight that the pain only adds to his pleasure. He arches his hips, does his best to meet her thrust for thrust. Pictures her bouncing around on his cock with her newsboy cap still on her head, as if she always fucks like this. 

Yeah, he thinks he'd like that. As much as he likes making her shake and moan. Tasting her pussy and painting her insides. Having to feel around in the dark for just a glimpse of her body. She's probably smirking again, squeezing her breasts to taunt him with what lies just beyond his reach. At least, until the next time they meet.

The warmth around his cock grows hotter, wetter. April grinding down with all she's got, grunting and gasping and clenching her muscles until stars pop like fireworks behind his eyelids. And Emmet can feel his engines revving to blast-off, _3...2...1…_

When he wakes from his dream—sometime before the day-lights have powered on—his sheets are soaked in sweat and his cock hard as a tent-pole under the blanket. And if Baby and Tom hadn't been sleeping soundly in their shared quarters, he might have considered reaching into his briefs to finish off. Though he'd much rather have someone else do it for him.

*****

Baby's lips taste every bit as sweet as he'd imagined, like butterscotch and caramel popcorn, the flavors of a man who had never grown out of sugary cereals and eating all his candy on Halloween night. With each press of their tongues, Emmet feels his pulse race faster, as if he were a child again and had just been given permission to eat his dessert before dinner. Thirty years too late, but he's not counting. 

They're sitting on the edge of Baby's bunk, both naked from head-to-toe, though all they've done so far is kiss and caress their bodies under the soft lights, a pair of teens too infatuated with each other to pay attention to the drive-in movie playing on the screen. He's seen it before, anyway, the stars glued in place outside the window, unlike the way Baby's lashes flutter, and his hands tremble, and his skin prickles wherever Emmet drags his fingers. Through his dense curls. Up and down his neck. Over his broad, muscular chest with its own constellations of freckles, waiting to be explored one dot at a time. Playfully, he pokes at them, nudges Baby's knee with his own, gives a little laugh when Baby freezes like a deer caught in headlights.

_It's cute,_ Emmet thinks, _how shy he is._ This big, burly man whimpering at the lightest touch, when he could easily break him in half with his bare hands. _Bear_ hands would be more fitting, considering how they seem to dwarf Emmet's body at every angle, from his shoulder to his waist, to the thickest part of his thigh, still large enough to wrap almost completely around it. It would be terrifying if Emmet hadn't known him as well as he does now, if he hadn't seen or felt how gentle he could be. With himself, with the rest of the crew. Lips so warm they make his heart ache, kisses so tender they make his cock ache. He wants him more than he ever believed he could, and he lets him know by moaning softly into his mouth and sliding his hand down below his navel, where a fuzzy trail leads to unimaginable treasure.

He's barely had the chance to tickle his untamed bush when Baby grasps his wrist and halts him dead in his tracks. Surprised, Emmet draws back. "What's wrong? Want me to stop?" God, he hopes not.

Baby's turquoise eyes flash in a panic. "No— _no._ It's just…" He hesitates, glances away. "I never done this before, Cap. I'm kinda nervous, is all."

Emmet shows him a smile. "It's OK, Baby. I've never been with a man, either."

"No," Baby replies, his bottom lip quivering. "I mean, I _never_ done this before. With anyone. Not even when I was in prison."

_Oh._ Oh. Emmet understands now. 

"Hey," he whispers, cradling Baby's jaw, "do you trust me?"

Baby nods. "Yeah. I trust ya with my life."

"Then I promise I'll be gentle. I'll make you feel better than you ever have."

The grip on Emmet's wrist loosens, and, gazing into his eyes, Baby breathes, "I...I just don't wanna disp—disappoint ya." A single tear rolls down his cheek, but Emmet is quick to catch it, sweeping it away with the pad of his thumb.

"You could never disappoint me," he says, and leans in to steal another kiss. "I just hope I won't end up disappointing you."

Those bashful blue eyes twinkle happily. "Nah, Cap," Baby blushes. "I been dreamin' 'bout this forever, an' already it's blowin' my mind."

Emmet smiles. "Let me help, then?" He doesn't wait for an answer but kisses Baby again, turning his hand to lace their fingers together. 

This is how he'll show him. Not with words or reasoning or hasty tricks, but all the care and adoration in the world. He'll kiss him until his lips grow numb. Hold him until his arms tire and his body begs for sleep. And when Baby takes his hand and guides it to his parted thighs, Emmet vows to make his first time so unforgettable, he'll never want to dream about anything else.

Carefully, he curls his fingers around Baby's shaft and gives it a firm, languid tug.

Baby's groan tickles his lips like a feather. His body shudders and his cock throbs with such intensity that Emmet fears he might not last another stroke. Not wanting to give up so soon, he tries it lighter and looser this time, pleased when Baby's tremors subside and his mouth parts in a quiet _"Oh."_ Emmet would ask if he likes it, but his tongue can't be bothered with questions at the moment. It's hard enough keeping it inside Baby's mouth when there are so many tantalizing places it could be. Coiled around the head of his cock, for example—slick and dripping with precome. Beckoning Emmet with the promise of a delicacy he's never tasted before. 

He twists his grip on the upstroke to squeeze out a few more droplets, then swipes his thumb over the slit before lifting his hand and smearing it across Baby's lips, so they can both taste how badly Baby wants this. He'd never known aphrodisiacs could be so intoxicating. Or that love potions were more than just myths. But something inside Baby changes then. His kisses grow deeper, his hands more confident. His massive palm seeks out Emmet's cock and strokes it as Emmet had done to him, playing with his foreskin, teasing his slit until his fingers are soaked and Emmet is shaking like _he's_ the virgin. Ready to explode before they've even gotten started. 

As much as it pains him to stop, he takes Baby by the wrist and gingerly coaxes his hand away, earning himself a sad whimper and a mumble of, "Whatza matter?"

Grinning, Emmet turns to whisper in his ear, "Get up on the bed, on your hands and knees, and spread your legs. I've got a surprise for you."

"Oh. Will—Will it hurt?"

"No, it'll feel incredible." He plants a kiss on Baby's cheek for encouragement. "Just trust me."

"O-OK." Baby gives him one last hesitant look before sliding towards the center of the cot and stretching his body out lengthwise: hips raised, arms folded under his head, face pressed to the pillow. He's blushing furiously, his cock dripping threads onto the pale gray sheets, and despite how cruel it may sound, Emmet can't help but laugh.

"Don't be so nervous, Baby," he says as he glides his palms over the sweat-slick expanse of Baby's back. "You look beautiful."

It's true; he does look stunning like this, with his legs open and his hairy pink pucker on full display. Emmet caresses his fuzzy cheeks lovingly, then carefully slips his thumbs into his crease and spreads him wide, so he can hear him gasp and watch his rim flutter like the most delectable of forbidden fruits. And suddenly, Emmet finds he can't wet his lips fast enough. 

Lowering his head, he sticks his tongue out and sweeps it over Baby's gorgeous furl.

Immediately, Baby moans and tries to clench his cheeks shut, but lust has given Emmet the strength of a dozen men, and it takes little effort to hold him open and wriggle his face even deeper, where he can breathe in that sweet musk that makes his taste buds tingle and his lips purse in unquenchable desire. Again, he laps at him, and again Baby moans, louder and longer, unable to control the tone of his buttery-rich voice.

"Cap— _Cap—"_

Emmet has never heard the word sound more beautiful. Or felt such a thrill shoot through his body at the thought that _he's_ the first to do this, that no one else has ever made Baby feel so good. And although he could count on one hand all the times he's lain between someone's cheeks, he knows that this here—this is something special. A moment they can share together until the end of the universe.

He shivers along with Baby as he swirls circles over his rim, each wrinkle and strand of hair enticing him to move forward, press deeper, until he can taste nothing else. He pushes against the center of his hole, but Baby is still too tight, allowing little more than the point to enter. Fortunately, Emmet knows how to fix this. 

Lifting his index finger, he lays it beside his tongue and starts licking all around it, getting it nice and wet so the next time he presses against Baby's furl, it slips inside with little resistance, past the first joint, then the second, then all the way up to the knuckle. Emmet still teasing his rim with his tongue as he pokes around for the spot he knows will drive Baby crazy. Sure, he might be lacking the experience for this, but biology doesn't lie, and like any good scientist, Emmet had done his research.

He curls the tip of his finger slightly, and when he finally meets that little bundle of nerves, Baby lets out a cry so pretty, he hopes the entire ship will hear. 

Emmet raises his head with a grin. "You alright, Baby?" He asks, though he thinks he knows the answer.

"Y-Yeah, Cap...I just—" Baby swallows hard. "Do that again," he whimpers. _"Please."_

Emmet does. Over and over. Until Baby's entire body seems to quake with pleasure.

His hole clenches, his voice breaks. His hips rock back and forth against Emmet's finger, swallowing and spitting him out again. Down between his legs, Emmet's cock throbs impatiently, knowing that it could be inside there, where it's hot and tight and so, so delectable. He gives it a placating stroke, then dips his head down to tongue Baby's rim again, pulling his finger out completely before sucking two into his mouth. The taste is nowhere near as sweet as those lips had been, but rich and earthy, and once Emmet has had his fill, he presses them back to Baby's hole, gently massaging his wrinkles as he waits for Baby to open up again. It doesn't take long at all.

With a low moan, Baby shudders and pushes back, and then both of Emmet's fingers are inside him, stretching him further than before. Emmet holds his hand still a moment, to give Baby time to adjust. "You hanging in there? Does it feel uncomfortable?"

Baby squirms. "It feels— _weird._ But not too bad."

Good. The last thing Emmet wants is to hurt him. 

Slowly, he begins to pump in and out, curling, twisting, stretching. Though with each thrust, Baby seems to whimper more, and before long Emmet can see tears start to trickle onto his pillowcase. 

He withdraws his fingers and gives Baby's back a soothing rub. "Hey, are you alright? You can tell me if it hurts."

"Are you—" Baby sniffles and nuzzles his cheek against the pillow. "Are you gonna put your _thing_ in me now?" He says it like it's a dirty word, and Emmet frowns.

"We don't have to have sex. It's alright if you don't want to."

"No, I _want_ to," Baby says. "But—I'm scared I won't be any good at it. And then you're gonna hate me."

His words dissolve into sobs, coiling like barbed wire around Emmet's heart. "Baby, I'm not going to hate you. I'm _never_ going to hate you. I don't want you to feel like you need to do anything to please me. I'm not your captain here, I'm your friend."

He hears him sniffle again. "You—You are?"

"Of course I am."

Scrubbing his cheeks with his fist, Baby rolls over and gazes up at him. "Is it OK if we try? If it doesn't hurt too much?"

"It's going to hurt, Baby," Emmet says. "You've never done this before, and I'm a lot bigger than two fingers." Not that he likes to boast; he just wants Baby to know what's in store.

"I-I think I'll be OK," replies Baby. "If ya go slow an' take it easy on me."

A small, dark freckle pierces the pale sky of Baby's hip, and, reaching out, Emmet lightly traces his fingers over it. "Are you sure about this?" 

Baby smiles through his tears. "Yeah, Cap," he says. "I don't want my first time to be with no one else."

_Yeah,_ Emmet thinks. _Neither do I._ He smiles back. "Pull your knees up to your chest. I'll be back in a second." With that, he turns and crawls towards the foot of the bed.

Their clothes lie in a haphazard pile on the floor—boots and gloves, suits and underwear shed without care or concern. A quick check of his pockets reveals a slender vial of viscous fluid, and Emmet eagerly snatches it up, completely unprepared for the treat that awaits him when he pivots back around.

Baby's face is redder than a can of tomato soup. His hands grip the crooks of his knees and hold them to his chest, giving Emmet a gorgeous view of his damp pucker. Fat and flushed, his cock rests in a puddle of its own slick, veins bulging temptingly. It takes every ounce of Emmet's willpower not to bend down and run his tongue all over them.

Licking his lips, he pops the cork on the tube and empties the entire contents into his palm. It's cold, uncomfortably so, but he warms it up on his cock first before smearing the rest on Baby's hole. To be polite. To make Baby's time as enjoyable as he possibly can.

He takes a moment to admire the way his rim glistens in the light, then, gripping his shaft, presses the tip against it. "You ready?" He asks.

Baby nods. "Yeah."

Slowly and carefully, Emmet eases inside.

The grimace that crosses Baby's face is instantaneous. Every muscle in his body seems to clench, but Emmet doesn't stop, sliding one centimeter at a time until he's nestled balls-deep. He groans and holds steady. _"Fuck…_ are you alright, Baby?"

Baby's knuckles are bone-white under his knees. "I—I'm OK," he grunts. "It hurts a little, but—" His brow creases in the middle. "Does it—Does it feel good for you?"

There's an innocence in his voice that grips Emmet's chest, a glimmer in his blue eyes more breathtaking than even the brightest of stars. Fingers trembling, Emmet reaches out to sweep a stray curl from his forehead. "It feels _amazing._ I wish I could stay inside you forever."

He's taken aback by a gentle laugh. "Won't that make it hard for ya to work?"

Emmet smiles, "It's a small sacrifice." He stares calmly at Baby. "I'm going to start moving now. Just breathe, alright?"

"O-OK. I think I'm ready." But he shivers all the same.

"Just—tell me to stop if you need to. I won't be angry."

Baby nods again. And, grasping his thighs, Emmet cautiously proceeds.

He starts with slow, shallow thrusts, letting Baby get used to the feeling, watching his face closely for any sign of distress. His eyes are clenched shut, and his brow twisted to a knot, but thread by thread the tension gradually unravels, and soon enough he parts his lips and begins to moan. 

"Still OK?" Emmet asks him, slowing to a near stop. 

"Yeah, it's—it's _good,_ Cap. I like it."

"Good," Emmet says and rocks his hips again, to another sweet moan from Baby.

He hadn't been exaggerating earlier; the experience truly _is_ mind-blowing. Tight and hot, his velvety insides wrapped around Emmet's cock like a glove. Emmet finds himself hanging on for dear life, desperate to stretch this out as long as he can, though each push, every gasp and groan that falls from Baby's lips draws him closer to the edge.

_"Cap_ — _Cap—"_

He wishes Baby would call his real name, shuck off all formalities and just cry out for _Emmet, Emmet. "Faster, Emmet. Harder. Deeper."_ He can hear its sweetness ringing in his ears, even as their gasps grow deafening, and their bodies shake, and everything seems to melt into one magnificent sensation, irresistible and inescapable. As if Emmet would have it any other way.

Thrusting faster and faster, he glances to the side and locks eyes with a pair of pitch black beads—Ted, seated on the nightstand where he can watch their every move like only a true pervert would. 

Emmet reaches over and flips the bear facedown, so he can't see his owner getting fucked into the next galaxy. Now that he doesn't have to worry about voyeurs, he's free to focus all his energy on Baby, centering his efforts around giving him a hands-free prostate massage. 

_"Ah_ — _Cap_ — _there_ — _"_

Baby is vibrating now, his thick cock twitching atop his stomach as it cries out for relief. Taking it in hand, Emmet begins to tug in time with his thrusts, though his rhythm quickly falls apart, his orgasm racing up behind him, causing his hips to stutter and his balls to ache in urgency. His toes try to curl into the soles of his feet, and his back drips with sweat, but he manages to hold on just long enough to hear Baby give an earth-shattering groan and see him spurt his load in milky ropes all over his chest. Then—finally—Emmet allows himself to let go, the feeling so good he doubts his body will ever forget it.

Once his breathing has calmed, and his pulse stops hammering at the walls of his heart, he cracks his eyes open to see Baby gazing back, the universe reflected in a sea of shining blue. "I love you, Cap," he murmurs softly.

Emmet leans down and kisses his sweaty brow. "Baby, I—"

He wakes to an empty bed, and the cold, unpleasant sensation of come in his briefs. Though it's not nearly as uncomfortable as the thought of Baby sleeping just a few feet away, cuddled up with his teddy bear when Emmet knows his own arms can do a much better job than any toy ever could.

*****

The luscious aroma of coffee permeates every strand of Deedee's hair.

Emmet can't breathe in without being reminded of its charm, of steaming mugs and plates piled high with bacon and eggs, breakfast at his favorite diner, half-price on Sundays. His stomach is still sore from where Deedee had elbowed it, when they'd struggled to squeeze both their bodies into one pencil-thin cot, but as he buries his nose in those golden waves and inhales as deeply as he can, he swears he can feel it growling. And no can or cupboard of soup could possibly be enough to sate it.

"You smell _so_ good, Deedee," he murmurs as he curls an arm underneath her to fondle her breast. "Makes me want a fresh cup of Joe."

Deedee laughs and shifts her back against his chest, cradling his head to draw him even closer. "Those beans do have their perks."

So does being a former figure-skater, apparently. Emmet's never had a girl lift her leg quite as high into the air just so he can stick his hand between her thighs. He's never gotten a girl this wet before, either, but then again no girl has ever eyed him so rapturously as Deedee, practically begging to serve herself up with a side of maple syrup during each of their morning meetings. It's no wonder she's dripping like a faucet around his fingers.

He plunges two of them in and out of her cunt while his thumb spins triple-axels over her clit, her moans sweet enough to earn him a gold medal.

_"Mmm..._ that's good, Cap. Just like that…"

The walls of her pussy feel luxuriously hot, and though Emmet is used to taking his coffee with only sugar, he wouldn't mind adding a little cream into the mix. Once his fingers have stirred up enough to fill a whole counter of mugs.

Chuckling like a fool, he nuzzles the space behind Deedee's earlobe before pursing his lips and suckling a sensitive patch of skin just beneath it. Deedee yelps.

_"Heyheyhey—_ we said _below_ the collar. Remember?"

Emmet releases her with a loud smack. "What, you don't want the others to see?"

"You mean, do I want them to know I'm having the best sex of my life?"

_"Really?_ Better than coffee, even?" A proud smile curves across his face. 

_"Mmm…"_ Deedee breathes a pleasant hum and tangles her fingers in his hair. "Coffee's never fingered me this good."

He also doubts it could give her an orgasm quite as good as what he has planned, though with Deedee's obsession, the possibility seems more likely than one would think. A bit intimidating, but Emmet has been looking forward to this for too long to give up now.

Eager to flaunt his superiority over caffeinated beverages, he parts her pussy lips and gives the insides a teasing rub. And if his mind had any lingering insecurities, they're gone the moment Deedee arches her back and moans so loud, it's a miracle no one comes bursting in with the medkit in hand. As embarrassingly hilarious as that would be.

"You know," he grins, tweaking one of her perky nipples between his thumb and forefinger, "you could probably hide it if you wear your hair down. Or…" His lips graze her flesh again, drawing out a delightful shiver. "I could make your neck blend in with your headscarf instead."

The grip on his hair tightens. _"Do it."_ And Emmet has never jumped at an order with such enthusiasm. 

Hungrily, he sucks hickeys all over her neck, nibbling at her earlobe, running his tongue over each bite _,_ to soothe the sting and taste the sweat on her skin, salty and delicious. He kneads her breast some more, presses his fingers deeper. Groans when Deedee clamps her cunt around them, as if trying to suck the very prints off. 

"Fuck me…" She moans, low and desperate. "Please, fuck me, Cap."

If they were back on Earth, Emmet might take her on a date first—to the malt shoppe, or the movies—before a round of heated petting in the backseat of his Packard. But here in the coldest, darkest depths of space, where their lives could end at any moment, all he wants is to fuck like there's no tomorrow. To have her moaning and biting her pillow. To pound her pussy as she's bent over his Captain's chair. To suck her clit by the storage lockers and hear her giggles echo all around him like nothing will ever change. Not even when things are at their very worst, as they so often seem to be.

Too eager to keep either of them waiting, he pulls his fingers out and sucks them clean, surprised at their sour-sweet taste, as far from her beloved coffee as possible. But what had he been expecting, really? He's not fucking a can of Folger's.

Finishing his drink, he moves to cup the underside of her knee—for leverage, for lust, for a night she'll never forget. He hears her moan again, feels her shiver, and like that he's rolling his hips forward, one smooth slide all it takes to pierce her cunt up to his very root. Deedee gasps, and Emmet smiles.

_"Mmmm..._ you're _soaked._ I really must be better than coffee," he jokes, and begins teasing her with leisurely thrusts, though Deedee seems to have other plans for them.

"Cap—" She groans. "Deeper."

Emmet purrs, "Is that an order?"

"No. It's a mutiny."

Biting back a laugh, Emmet shoves his cock in hard, until he can feel it ram right up against her cervix. Yet Deedee simply moans.

"Yeah—that's good—faster—don't stop—"

Over and over, he fucks into her—deep and slow, hard and fast. With his nails dug into her skin and his hand clamped over her breast, losing himself in the grunts and squelches, the feel of Deedee's sumptuous pussy contracting around him. Until suddenly, something pops, and Deedee throws her head back—

_"Cap!"_

—before squeezing tight and milking his cock for all its worth. 

When they've finally come down from their orgasms, after what feels like an age of shudders and stilted breaths, Emmet carefully slides out and lowers Deedee's leg to the bed, pushing himself into a sitting position. He shakes his arms to rid them of their pins-and-needles. "That was—"

"Out of this world?" Deedee chuckles.

"At the risk of sounding clichéd? Yeah, it was."

They share a smile, and Deedee climbs up to join him. "You—um—you got a little something—" She giggles, pointing to his crotch.

Emmet looks down and his eyes go wide. "Holy—" 

Thick, white juices coat his length from base to tip, and though he's certain he hasn't fucked any milk bottles lately, part of him can't help but wonder. "Let me get my undershirt."

"Don't worry about it," Deedee says. "I can take care of the mess."

_She's joking, right?_ Emmet wrinkles his nose and ignores the devious throb in his cock. "Are you sure? It...doesn't seem very—" _appropriate? polite?_ "—professional of me to ask."

"Cap, you just turned my pussy into a waterfall. I think we're way past professionalism here."

_What the hell, why not?_ It's not like the ship has an HR department. "I guess—when you put it that way…" _Don't you dare say it._ "It's kind of like a cappuccino?" 

It's an awful joke, but Deedee laughs nonetheless. "Y'know," she winks, "I kinda like cappuccino." Then, with a quick tug on her polka-dotted scarf, she leans down and buries her face in his lap.

If Emmet had known this would become a regular occurrence, he would have had the foresight to grab a few extra pairs of Astrocitizen underwear before the space station went nuclear. Maybe dream-Deedee hadn't cared for professionalism, but he sure as hell isn't going to ask Tom or Baby for a spare. Even if the idea of sharing makes his pulse race and his cock twitch like it hadn't just blown its load less than thirty seconds ago.

*****

"Don't worry, Cap," Tom laughs as he smooths his ungloved palms up the insides of Emmet's thighs. "When I was a major in the army, we used to do this all the time. Twice a day on occasions!"

Emmet hasn't the slightest clue as to which form of military training would involve kneeling before one's subordinate while pawing at their crotch. Granted, he's never been in the military, but neither has Tom for that matter. Just call it a hunch.

He relaxes into his Captain's chair and spreads his legs wider, equally aroused and eager to glimpse the fall of Tom's hubris. "I thought you said you bred lions for the circus."

"That too!" Tom beams. "Where'd you think I learned how to mind my teeth?"

Now _that_ would have been a sight for sore eyes. Ordering Tom to use his teeth instead of his fingers. Watching him fumble at the zip like a dog drunk on bravado and over-ripened tomato soup. But sadly, the thought comes a little too late; before Emmet can open his mouth again, Tom has already unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly, peeling the spacesuit down just far enough so he can reach inside and extract his rock-hard cock.

"Well, well, well," he croons suggestively, "you're a big fella. Bet lots of gals tell ya that."

Emmet shrugs and tries to appear as nonchalant as possible. Or as nonchalant as anyone can be with a warm, firm hand tugging their shaft. "Some of them do."

"Bet they break their necks to get at it, something this thick and heavy."

_Thick? Heavy?_ Does Tom make it his habit to go around weighing dicks? "Maybe. Can't say I've ever sent anyone to the hospital though."

Emmet is far from a betting man, but if he had a nickel to toss to the unforgiving void outside, he'd wager it all on Tom forsaking his cock to go off on some fanciful tangent about sexual calisthenics, or the time he was an E.R. doctor at a nudist camp. Complete with props and hand gestures, and no concern whatsoever for stranding Emmet with the bluest balls in the cosmos. 

Which is why it comes as a shock when, rather than boast his "accomplishments", Tom simply smirks and leans forward, nuzzling his cheek against the side of Emmet's erection. "Say, Cap, you ever heard of a Tasmanian Tongue Twister? _Hmm?"_

His hum buzzes like an electric current along Emmet's skin, and Emmet has to bite his lip to keep from moaning. "No," he chokes. "I'm pretty sure I haven't."

_"Well_ — _"_ In the blink of an eye, Tom pulls back, the shit-eating grin plastered all over his face worth at least ten nickels and a lonely wank in the airlock. "You see, it starts with the tip—"

_Fuck._

"—way down to the taint, and then—"

_Fuck, fuck._

"—hard to pick up, but I'm a fast learner."

Fortunately, so is Emmet. 

Grasping the base of his shaft, he points it directly at Tom's mouth, silencing his work of fiction with a light tap on the lips. "Why don't you show me, instead?" 

For a moment, Tom appears as if he'd been caught with his pants around his ankles, like Emmet had asked him to indicate on a diagram exactly where a lion's reproductive organs are located. Patiently, Emmet waits. Watches Tom's bottom lip tremble, glossy with precome from where he'd smeared his tip over it. 

Nothing. He heaves a sigh. "Tom, you know you don't have to—" But he doesn't get much further than that. 

Eye closed, Tom opens his mouth and eagerly sweeps his tongue over the head of his cock. 

Every atom in Emmet's body seems to burst in ecstasy. His breath comes in short gasps, his thighs tense, his head lolls against the back of his chair as though his neck muscles have given up all control.

_Is this the Tasmanian Tongue Twister?_ Fuck, where has Tom been hiding this? He's barely three licks in and Emmet is aching to explode, and that's not counting the way his toes curl when Tom purses his lips to push his foreskin back, lapping at him all the while he does it. Emmet groans.

_Come on, hold it together,_ he tells himself. _What would the others think if they heard their captain losing his mind over a blowjob?_ Though "holding it together" is easier said than done now that Tom is working his shaft, sucking and slurping and running his tongue over his veins. Humming a pleasant tune through his nose like Emmet's cock is an instrument, and he'd practiced for months to audition. And, _fuck,_ does it show.

Emmet draws in a slow, calming breath and cards his fingers through Tom's hair, forcing his voice flat as a pancake. "You're really good at that, you know?"

Tom laughs and keeps sucking.

"I never pegged you as homosexual, the way you walk around acting macho all the time. Just— _ah_ —how many guys did you fuck in the army?"

He'd intended it as a rhetorical question, but for some godforsaken reason, Tom pulls back to answer, releasing him with a wet _pop._ "Well, it's technically not gay as long as the balls don't—"

"I didn't say stop," Emmet snaps, giving his hair a tug. He doesn't need to repeat himself; Tom is more than happy to gobble him up again, if only so he can brag about it afterwards. _I sucked the Captain off so good, he almost went as blind as me_ — _but in_ both _eyes!_ And for once, Emmet doesn't mind the lies. Hell, they might even turn out to be the truth this time.

He feels his cock start to twitch against that soft, warm tongue, and groans louder. He wants to fill Tom's mouth with his spunk, wonders if he might spit it out or try to swallow it all. Or if he'd let him come on his face instead, add a little white to that black eyepatch. How far would his loyal crewmate go, if Emmet asked him? If he _commanded_ it?

Suddenly, a wanton thought pops into his head.

"Touch yourself," he says. "I want to see you jerk off while you suck me."

Without batting an eye, Tom reaches between his legs and unzips his fly. And while Emmet can't see much from this angle, he knows Tom is working himself over just as ordered; he can hear him grunting as his arm moves up and down to fist his cock. 

"Good," Emmet growls. "Don't stop. I want you to come for me. Come all over the floor. And then—" He gasps, feels the blood rush to his filthy brain.

"And then I want you to lick it up."

All at once, Tom shudders, and impales himself so hard on Emmet's length, his nose slams head-on into his pubes. And Emmet is moaning, and his cock is twitching. And then he's—and then—

He doesn't bother checking to see if Tom and Baby are still asleep before diving into his briefs and finishing the job his dreams had started. If he keeps this up, he's going to run out of underwear before they even come close to reaching a planet. Unless they can find a way to reprogram the crafting module to split the difference. At least enough to cover a few more rounds.

*****

Emmet had never known that breasts could feel so soft.

He'd been told by friends and colleagues—through lewd jokes and genuine advice—never to ask a woman her age. But he's sure if he were to inquire, Maegan would wear the number like a badge of honor, as if to illustrate that, several kids and countless years later, her body is still a force to be reckoned with.

Purring seductively, she grinds her ass back against his cock, the silken feel of her thigh-high stockings more pleasurable on his skin than whatever cheap plastic the shuttle chairs are made of. "You're blushing, Captain," she says, arms curled around his neck. "What's wrong? Never had a nude woman sit on your lap before?"

Emmet smiles and gives her breast another reverent squeeze. "Would you be jealous if I said I had?"

"You've had _girls_ maybe," replies Maegan. "But me—I could teach you things you've never dreamed of."

"Yes, Ma'am," Emmet chuckles.

_"Cheeky."_ She leans in and seals their lips together, her kiss gentle and commanding all at once, nothing like the chaste pecks and cautious explorations he's used to. It's wonderfully exhilarating, and Emmet kisses back with fervor, nipping, sucking, allowing Maegan's tongue to lead the way. His fingers glide from her back to her thighs, where the lacy straps of her garterbelt fight to hold their position against curves so dangerous they could warrant their own hazard sign. Playfully, he snaps one of them, and feels Maegan hum into his mouth.

His cock is dripping wet, sliding between her cheeks with hardly any resistance. He could fuck her there, if he only had lube. But her pussy is equally enticing, not quite as wet but warm and soft against his stomach. Emmet makes a decision.

He slips his hands beneath her and begins to angle her hips upwards, but Maegan quickly puts a stop to it. "No, leave it. My first husband liked it this way." Emmet isn't in any position to argue.

They meet halfway, Maegan grinding back and Emmet pulling her forward so her clit rubs against him. He might not have a shred of her experience, but he's never been one to half-ass things. Not his job or his duties, and especially not sex. 

He kisses all along her throat, kneads her supple breast. Pinches a nipple between his fingers as he catches her pearl necklace with his teeth and gives it a tug. He's close now, primed to get off on her moans alone, not to mention the delightful pressure he feels every time she squeezes her cheeks around him. To think of how lucky her first husband must have been.

Faster and harder, they grind together, until Maegan arches against him, and Emmet comes not moments later, spunk dripping in thick globs down her back.

"Well, Captain," she murmurs above his ragged gasps, "did you make the right choice?"

It's the last thing he hears before he wakes, and the one thought that lingers in his mind when the ship's lights power on, and the crew stirs, and the calendar clicks over to a brand new day.

_"Captain, did you make the right choice?"_

*****

"Hey, Cap? You OK over there?"

Emmet stares blankly at the haggard face reflected in A.S.T.R.O.'s computer screen, eyes heavy with exhaustion and cheeks dusted with more stubble than he'd ever allowed to grow back on Earth. A simple _Yes-or-No_ question blinks in need of an answer, though he doubts he has the mental capacity to tie his own (nonexistent) shoelaces at the moment. Maybe if he just starts pushing buttons and hopes for the best...

"Cap?"

"Huh?" Brain sizzling from overexertion, he slowly pivots towards the sound of Deedee's voice. "Did you say something?"

Deedee stands there and eyes him suspiciously, her worrisome frown hanging like a stormcloud above her steaming mug of coffee. "You look like you fell asleep inside a meat grinder," she says. "You been having nightmares again?"

They're not so much nightmares as they are an unending stream of sexual torment. But Deedee doesn't need to know that. "I'm fine, I just—" He rubs his eyes beneath his glasses. "I just need a pick-me-up, is all." Preferably one that doesn't involve nude bodies.

"Oh. Well, um—" She clutches her cup close to her chest and takes a cautious step backwards. "I'll be here if you need me." That said, she scurries off, glancing over her shoulder every step of the way.

Then, all Emmet is left with is himself. And a spank bank more detailed that A.S.T.R.O.'s daily printouts.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, he heaves a sigh and turns to survey the mess scattered around him.

Loud bangs and colorful swears crash through the air as April's domineering hands show the faulty crafting module who's boss. Over by the window, Baby, Ted, and Baby's Soviet Socker action figure are having an innocent yet manly tea party with an empty can of soup and two crooked spoons. Deedee sips her drink and feathers back her coffee-scented hair. Tom grins confidently through another tall tale, while Maegan sits with her hands folded atop her curvy thighs and pretends to listen. Five people fighting for the same prize; none of them realizing that—no matter who wins in the end—here in this tin bubble, they all end up losing together.

_Unless…_

A spark tickles Emmet's brain.

_What if there's another way?_ Maybe in A.S.T.R.O.'s programming, there could be only one answer, but to the human mind, the possibilities were endless. Calculations, permutations, theories to explore—and here Emmet had been racing to the conclusion without testing his hypothesis. Publishing a groundbreaking study without savoring the experiments along the way. Given enough time and effort, he's sure he can find a solution that satisfies all of them. He's certainly solved harder problems than this.

He looks up in time to catch Baby and April shooting covert smiles at him, and smirks.

But first, he thinks he'll sleep on it some more. After all, it never hurts to weigh his options.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this cluster of fucks, please leave a comment or come chat with me on [tumblr.](http://ladydorian.tumblr.com)


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